


Who's Jealous of Who?

by WyrmLivvy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Auror Harry Potter, Drama, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-03 14:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10969329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WyrmLivvy/pseuds/WyrmLivvy
Summary: An AU where Tom Riddle|Voldemort is basically Bruce Wayne|Batman, with the complication of being married to Harry, an Auror who is trying to arrest Voldemort. And then Tom gets jealous when he starts to think that Harry is falling for Voldemort.Written for the tomarrydarkspringexchange, for my giftee omgallnamesaretaken, who prompted a Jealous!Tom fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very sorry for the delay as this story is nearly a month past due and I am still not done. I've decided to just post some chapters already and hopefully complete it this week (as I've been saying every week *sigh*). 
> 
> And this is my own fault, because for someone who knows they are bad at writing action sure decided on something that requires it. Oops. 
> 
> I tried to make the story darker but my mind just refused to let it happen because of the prompt and premise I settled on (Tom getting jealous of his own alter-ego in an AU where he is basically Batman). I drew inspiration from a hodgepodge of stuff but foremost is Batman (especially the Lego Batman Movie), the Hong Kong drama “War of In Laws,” Superman, and Zootopia. 
> 
> There’s some scenes I like and others that are ??? and I am, as you said, struggling (and it's my fault lol), nonetheless here a Jealous!Tom fic. Enjoy ~

Harry Potter had married Tom Riddle because both of them had little choice in the matter. They were both orphans, but long ago their parents had sealed their fates. There were a diminishing number of pureblood families, and the Potters and Gaunts had counted among the group until Merope Gaunt had married a muggle man - Tom Riddle Sr., and James Potter had married a muggleborn witch - Lily Evans. Merope and James had fought the social and political pressures that would have them tied together but Marvolo Gaunt had laid down consequences for their actions. Because they had not, no matter what, a Gaunt descendant had to marry a Potter descendant. 

This was the history had Harry considered when he had first stepped into the manor Tom lived in. The manor had been Tom’s father’s and Harry knew that it offended pureblood society at large that Tom would chose to live in his muggle father’s house rather than some pureblood ancestral home, and Harry suspected that was exactly why Tom did so. Harry was pleased with the decision, but now, weeks into their marriage, Harry could see that it was too large a place, for it was easy to live in the same building but never see each other. 

Harry did not want to blame Tom for being distant and private when their marriage was one arranged by an older, bitter relative who had disapproved of their parents’ matrimonial choices (and in retaliation spelled out theirs), and not one born of any romance or even friendship, so he tried at building a companionship between them. 

It was Saturday morning and on Harry’s suggestion they were having breakfast together. Though the point of eating together was to communicate and get closer emotionally, Harry found himself with several newspapers because Tom had a book open and Harry did not want to disturb him. They were using a long dining table but were seated directly across from each other. Harry was only a few feet away from Tom, but their reading materials were a barrier.

Harry was married but he did not feel like he was married. If anything, the marriage that felt real above all else was Harry’s marriage to his job as an Auror. Even now he was engaged with some part of it as he read the news. There was something to be said for separating his work life and his private life but the desk in his bedroom resembled his desk at work, though with one case, instead of several. Harry supposed Tom would have complained about it if they did share a room, as spouses generally did, but they did not, so Harry filled his room with material having to do with the mysterious vigilante named Voldemort. 

Harry glanced at newspaper and the cloaked figure wearing a serpentine mask on it, the man was in flight and descending onto a tall building. Voldemort was in the news again. Harry sighed. 

After Voldemort around the same time other strange people did as well, such as a man whose theme was birds, and whose name began with “P” - Harry recalled it was “Phoenix”, a woman whose theme was cats, and noticeably could transform into a cat herself, as well as being infamous for being able to transfigure her opponents into cats, and a man that had two-faces, one on the front - where you would normally find a face, while a second was on the back of his head but was sometimes hidden by a turban. They were all headaches for the Auror Office. 

Harry was aware of the politics in his office and his coworkers did take it personally that Voldemort was getting attention from the public and being noted as someone was was better at catching Dark wizards than the Aurors themselves. However, Harry was not offended but actually relieved because he had previously been the person that had received the most attention for this work. But Voldemort came along to do what Harry did - except illegally and with the Dark Arts. That was why Harry needed to arrest him of course. 

At least he has a name now, Harry thought about the wizard that he and other Aurors, to their frustrations, barely knew anything about and had yet to successfully arrest. Before Ginny Weasley had secured an exclusive interview, everyone had referred to Voldemort by various names, including Snakeman, the Dark Lord, the Cloaked Crusader, or simply the Snake. The masked man had come into prominence in the city of Hangleton months ago but his popularity, or rather infamy, had not died down yet, but was, if anything, growing. 

Harry picked up another page and the next article title that caught his eye caused him to give another disgruntled sigh. This did not go unnoticed. 

Tom had looked up from his book. Tom was a Ministry worker, but at a post that was low-profile and unglamorous - as a custodian of the Ministry’s Archives. Harry knew that Tom brought his work home too. There were too many places in the manor that Tom had warned him were off-limits. Harry would have tried to explore, but Tom had elaborated that he had wanted to preserve the spaces that had been used by his deceased parents. Thus, out of respect, Harry did not wander, but with permission there had been occasions Harry had seen Tom’s room, and on a desk there were books that needed repair. Magical books, unlike Muggle books could not be as simply repaired. It was delicate, specialized work and Harry’s heard the sounds of fire, roars, electricity and other strange sounds come from Tom’s side of the manor. But the volumes would be repaired by the next morning and Tom would take them back to the Archives it came from. Checking on a book’s health might even involve reading them, as Tom was doing now, and Harry wondered how Tom got any sleep at all. 

“Can you read quietly?” Tom asked. 

Harry had made several sounds in a span of time while Tom had made none until he spoke just now. 

“Not when faced with fresh nonsense from Rita Skeeter.” Harry said, aggressively biting into a piece of toast. Harry tossed the paper in his hand down and gestured at the offending article. 

It was about an ongoing case of similar incidents currently being investigated by the Auror Office, of adult magical folks mysteriously losing control of their magic, and being compelled to attack another person with it. There were four cases and a clear and obvious thread were that the afflicted people were all muggleborns while the people hurt had varying magical heritages. 

The workers at St. Mungos had yet to figure out the cause but the people had been witnessed as normal before suddenly lashing out at anyone nearby with wandless magic that hurt through the various ways it manifested such as burns or clawing. Words could not get through to them as they continued to launch offensive magics, and they could only be immobilized and moved into the hospital until they could be cured. There was not one yet and there was a team working on an antidote but they still needed time to create an effective product. 

In the meantime, a theory being popularized by Rita Skeeter and others like her that was gaining traction was the belief that in those cases muggleborns had reached a breaking point where they could not handle the magic they had and it had turned on them, and that all muggleborns could lose control in this way and therefore should all be banished from public life before they reached that point. There was no evidence but when faced with no answers some turned to this.The whole city of Hangleton was tense.

“The Auror Office issued an official statement.” Harry said, “We said that such theories were in no way acceptable and the matter is still being investigated, but there’s still these articles.” Harry sighed. “That do nothing but spread rumors and fear.” His hand balled up. 

“Read something that isn’t drivel, then.” Tom said, handing Harry another newspaper, one from the pile Harry had in front of him. 

Harry relaxed his hand in order to grab the newspaper. He glanced at the publication Tom had given him. It was run by the Gryffindor that had been his junior by one year at Hogwarts, Colin Creevey. The newspaper was named “The Magbob,” after an old term for muggleborns that held positive connotations and related to the joy of having magic unexpectedly manifest in magical folks of muggle heritage - of magic bobbing into view. Those who viewed the newspaper derisively called it “The Mudblood” instead. To Harry, the newspaper was a fair one that had a reputation of giving voice to muggleborns, halfbloods, Squibs and other categories of marginalized folks of the wizarding world, and for that reason it was disliked by purebloods who thought it should do more to center them, despite the fact almost all other newspapers already did that to the detriment of people who didn’t come from pureblood families. Colin’s recent articles spoke against the anti-muggleborn theories being pushed, and called for empathy for all the people involved and not jumping to conclusions without evidence. His newspaper was attracting attention, good and bad. 

“I didn’t know you were a fan,” Harry said, glancing at Tom. Harry thought about questioning Tom further because this was a common thread he had not known they shared. He wanted to communicate with him. 

“I read it occasionally.” Tom said from behind his book, which he had gone back to reading with an apple slice in his hand. His posture looked closed off, advising against interruption. 

Seeing that Tom did not want to be interrupted, Harry turned to his own reading. The quiet lasted for five minutes when Harry sighed in frustration. 

Colin had published an exclusive interview with Voldemort. 

Ginny Weasley had been the first journalist to secure an interview with Voldemort. Following the publication, it had been a worry for Harry that people, fans and enemies of Voldemort alike would harass her for information on him because she was reachable in a way Voldemort was not because Voldemort appeared in the night and patrolled many places while Ginny had work hours and an office she could be found at. 

People had thought maybe she knew more about Voldemort than what she had shared in her article. As a part of his job and his assignment, Harry had to question Ginny on how she had convinced Voldemort to agree to an interview and if she had any personal ties to him beyond reporter and interviewee. 

Ginny had explained that she had managed to get him to speak to her because she saw that Voldemort could fly so she figured the only way she could reach him was by flying too. She had pursued him on a broomstick, for hours, until he had agree to an interview. When Harry questioned her, Ginny said she did not know Voldemort’s civilian identity. Still, she had been shadowed for some time and that put a strain on Harry’s friendship with her. The attention directed at Ginny wore off once Voldemort spoke Luna Lovegood, and the attention toward her departed after he had allowed himself to be interviewed by Parvati Patil and Padma Patil.

Harry was aware that the wealthy and powerful pureblood wizards of Hangleton did feel slighted about the infamous vigilante Voldemort only allowing women to interview him. Voldemort had been interviewed in the past only by pureblood or half-blood witches, but now here was the first interview with a man, but one that was a muggleborn wizard. Colin Creevey was male but Harry knew that there would be bitterness over Voldemort’s supposed favoritism of a muggleborn, especially one that ran the publication Colin Creevey did. It meant something. 

Harry didn’t know what to make of it. If Voldemort was telling the truth it reduced the amount of people that could be his true identity, but if it was a lie then it would deflect discovery of his identity. 

Whether or not the information Voldemort had voluntarily given was true, Harry had to schedule a time to interview Colin.

Harry could feel a headache brewing as he read Colin’s article, not because of Colin’s writing quality, which was excellent, but because of what he had to do and the fact that Voldemort was dreadfully prideful and self-aggrandizing and most of the statements were unhelpful. For example, Voldemort wanted his enchanted car to be referred to not as a “Snakecar” but as the “Serpentmobile”. But what stood out was Voldemort saying that he was not a pureblood wizard. 

A popular topic that Harry heard argued out in several places, including at work, was Voldemort’s blood status. Harry was certain that the man was a half-blood or a muggleborn, though some people were of the opinion that Voldemort was a pureblood because of the high degree of skill he demonstrated at advance magics. Harry disagreed with them because he did not think purebloods were necessarily better at magic and there was also the matter of the recent debut of Voldemort’s _flying car_ , which now had the name of Serpentmobile, because he had declared it as such. It was unlikely for a pureblood to modify and utilize such a creation. In following his theme of snakes, Voldemort’s car was sleek and scaly, and an enchanted pattern kept the vehicle invisible to Muggle eyes and camouflaged it from that of magical folks’ as well so the Statue of Secrecy was kept, but the Serpentmobile was still illegal, like almost everything associated with Voldemort. 

People often gossiped over Voldemort’s blood status, but now he had gone out of his way to say he was not a pureblood wizard. He had done so while being interviewed for Colin’s newspaper, during a time of fear and backlash against muggleborns. 

Tom had set down his book again because of Harry’s various sounds of distress, and Harry made eye contact with him. 

“Well, this has been a good breakfast.” Tom said, standing up with the book in his hand. “Since you can’t seem to read quietly, I’ll just go read in my room and - ”

“I wish you didn’t always do this.” Harry said. 

“Do what?”

“Every time I try to get us to spend time together or at least talk to each other you ignore me in favor of reading some book.”

“I’m trying to figure out how to break the curse.” Tom said. “My grandfather is the reason you are here - the blame is on my family so I am responsible for you being here in my company against your will, and I am trying to rectify that.” 

“Being here because of the curse doesn’t make me feel bad.” Harry said. “I feel bad because you ignore me. Just once I want to spend time together that with you that feels like it. Do you resent having to be with me then?” Harry asked. 

"I don’t have the right to feel resentful, not when I have the name of the man who’s at fault.” Tom said. “And I’m not, by the way. I’m sorry for my inattention. You said we’ll be having dinner tonight at six right? I promise I’ll be attentive then.” 

Harry blinked. An apology and a promise? That was surprising. 

“Okay,” Harry said. “I’ll hold you to it. And you can leave to read somewhere quiet if you want to. I’m done here too, since there’s a call I have to make.”

Tom nodded and left, appearing grateful to be dismissed.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry walked into the living room and toward the rotary phone, which he knew was functional and could be used because Tom had informed him before. 

Not every appliance in the house worked. The toaster worked but the microwave did not. Neither did the large grandfather clock that stood in the section of the manor wing that Tom lived in. It was perpetually stuck at five minutes to midnight and Harry had tried to touch it once, to see if he could fix it. 

His hand never actually connected with the clock because Tom had appeared out of what seemed like nowhere and pinned his hand to the wall. In fact, Harry’s entire body had been pinned by Tom, who had said with a gentle voice at odds with the power in his hold, that Harry really should not touch the grandfather clock. That incident was the first time Harry could remember Tom touching him. Otherwise, Tom rarely did and avoided physical contact with Harry as much as possible. 

“That grandfather clock was a “gift” from my grandfather, Marvolo Gaunt…my mother’s father, whose name I have as my middle name,” Tom said. “He wasn’t a very nice man and neither is his handiwork, it’s a cursed object and permanently affixed to this corridor. Please don’t touch it, unless you feel that your life is too long.” Tom had explained many things and one of them was that his grandfather was why they would be cursed if outside of the arranged marriage they were currently in. After that, Harry did not wander the areas of the manor and did not touch objects unless they were on the first floor rooms of the manor he resided in or Tom had said could be safely used by him. 

The rotary phone was functional and held no malicious spellwork. Harry dialed in the phone number printed on the “Contact Us” section of The Magbob.

A person on the other end of the line did not pick up immediately.

“Hello? This is Colin Creevey, editor of The Magbob. How - ”

Harry could not hear the rest of Colin’s words as they were drowned out by the shouted words of a Howler. Harry winced.

“ - PUBLISHING LIES! WHY WOULD VOLDEMORT ALLOW HIMSELF TO BE INTERVIEWED BY A MUDBLOOD WHEN HE’S A POWERFUL - ”

There was the sound of a spell hitting paper and the Howler went silent. 

“Hello Colin. It’s Harry.” Harry said. 

“Harry?” Colin said. “Oh my god. I’m sorry - you must have heard the Howlers. We’re getting alot and it’s a struggle trying to shot them down.”

“It’s alright. There’s no need to apologize. In fact, I feel I like I should be the one to apologize since I’m calling about a matter relating to my work. It’s about the interview you gave.” 

“I understand.” Colin said. “You had to ask Ginny after she interviewed him. And then Luna too.” 

Luna had written for her father’s publication. The piece had been about Voldemort’s recovery of basilisk eggs that a wizard had been breeding with the intention of selling to wealthy purebloods interested in acquiring such a creature for setting loose in a place with muggles. Though capturing Dark wizards was the job of Aurors, Voldemort’s most frequent actions were to get into duels with other Dark wizards.

When asked about his actions, Voldemort had said that he would not allow for basilisks to be used in such a manner because it was degrading for such majestic creatures to be used as tools. Though Harry would rather Voldemort had interfered out of sympathy for muggles and their safety, the result was still that no people were killed, even if the main reason Voldemort interfered, implied by his words, was his belief that basilisks were not for others to use, but for he alone. The basilisk eggs had not been recovered. 

Harry had to interview Luna about her interview with Voldemort, then have her guarded and followed. Like Ginny, Luna had said she did not know who Voldemort was under his mask. She also did not know where Voldemort had taken the basilisk eggs. 

Voldemort was certainly dangerous and every Auror had instructions to capture him on sight. Voldemort was simply too disruptive and bizarre a force to be allowed to move freely doing the things he did. Privately, Harry agreed with some of his actions, or rather the results of those actions, because lives were saved, but Voldemort was a known user of the Dark Arts.

When asked why he fought Dark wizards, Voldemort had said “there can only be one,” and that he would be the ultimate Dark wizard and was therefore beating his competition. Of course, reading that lowered Harry’s overall opinion of him. He seriously hoped it was just a persona that the man put on. Voldemort was contradictory and Harry was sure Voldemort was insane, he had to be, as someone who dressed, spoke and acted the way he did. Any possible information that could lead to his capture was needed. 

“Yes, you’ll have to go through the same process.” Harry said. “I apologize in advance for the trouble.”

“Oh thank goodness.” Colin said.

“Thank goodness?”

“You believe that he really did allow me to interview him.” Colin said. “People are doubting me because they’re saying he wouldn’t speak to a muggleborn.”

“Of course he did.” Harry said. He could recognize Voldemort’s personality in the pages. Harry explained that he would have to question Colin in person. 

He had to do so every time Voldemort spoke to a reporter, on the chance that the reporter would know something deeper, something that could give Voldemort away and lead to his arrest or the discovery of his civilian identity. 

Harry also thought he could get some Aurors assigned to Colin, his place of work and his employees. Harry had already been trying to arrange such a thing because of the vandalism and harassment faced by Colin and his staff but now he thought such an arrangement would be approved now that Colin had interviewed Voldemort. 

Overall, the call was brief and cordial. The tough questions could be dealt with in the face to face meeting, which they had scheduled for four pm. Harry didn’t expect the interview to take an hour at most. He would have plenty of time to get to dinner with Tom at six. 

——

Harry showed up at The Magbob’s offices at 3:45. 

Harry entered Colin’s private office room and sat down on the offered chair, which was on the opposite end of the desk Colin was seated at. 

“I’ll need a copy of any notes you took during your interview of him.” Harry said.

Colin nodded and handed Harry a sheaf of papers. 

Harry asked short and to the point questions. When and where did his interview of Voldemort take place? How long did they talk and what did they talk about? What was said that Colin did not write down or share publicly in his article?

Colin answered each of these questions. He did not appear to be hiding anything and things he had left out seemed to be for the sake of making the article flow and read better. There were statements Voldemort had given that he had already spoken of before in the past, like in his interview with the Patil sisters, which they had published in their Divination magazine. There he had spoken about the contradictory nature of Seers. If their sight is "True" that meant everything they saw would come to pass and that implied a powerlessness on their part. If it was True then it could not be Changed. 

The interview was relatively calm and Harry would rather it have stayed that way but near the end of interview, when Harry was about to voice a final question and thank Colin for his time, the air around them had shifted. 

Acting on instinct, Harry had grabbed Colin and pulled him to the room’s exit. That quick action preserved their lives at the moment as fiery snake had burst into view, incinerating the wall Colin’s back had faced.

Colin had shouted in a panic, not because he had nearly died but because he was mourning the incarceration of his paper drafts. Harry could understand why Colin was upset, but for now they had to leave. 

He opened the door and the two of them rushed out.

Harry could see objects on the ceiling he recognized as installed fire sprinklers. They were working and spraying madly at the flames it spawned forth more forms as it ate at every material it touched, viciously and quickly. Though the sprinklers, which also had to be magical, diminished the magical flames slightly, the inferno was stronger and grew at a faster pace, eating the sprinklers as well as its form shifted into a entire menagerie of dangerous animals - manticores, dragons, and minotaurs. 

Harry recognized that it was no ordinary fire spell, which would have been put out by the sprinkler system, but magic that was of the Dark Arts - the Fiendfyre Spell. 

They continued running down the office, watching the desks and chairs get eaten up before their eyes. 

The smoke from the spell had a detrimental effect on Harry and though he attempted to Apparate Colin and himself, he found that he could not as the oppressive heat interfered with the magic he tried to activate. 

Colin pointed his wand at the sprinklers and strengthened them and Harry blasted a torrent of enchanted water at the inferno but their efforts only had a moderate effect as it continued to surge toward them, a smaller and slower but still powerful threat. 

They exited the offices and into a corridor where the Fiendfyre continued to pursue them.

The Fiendfyre only stopped as it slammed into a rushing wall of water.

“I didn’t cast the Fiendfyre…” 

Harry recognized the high voice even before he turned around. 

“…despite the appearance of some of the flames.” Voldemort said.

Harry stared at Voldemort and the caged Fiendfyre reflecting off the red eyes of his mask. 

“The water spell you’re using - ” Harry said. He recognized it as he had recognized the Fiendfyre. “ - is of the Dark Arts. It’s the kind of water that can turn people into Inferi if they drown in it.” 

“Well, I didn’t use it to drown anyone.” Voldemort said, blatantly admitting he had used an illegal and frankly evil spell. “In fact I used it to save the two of you just now.” He waved his wand and in a moment the Fiendfyre was swallowed immediately, snuffed out by dark water. 

The corridor was thrown into darkness and Harry could no longer see Voldemort. 

“Holy shit. That was so cool.” Colin said, glancing in the direction of the charred area where the Fiendfyre had died. “Thank you for saving - ”

“It’s a Dark Art.” Harry interrupted. The kind that could create an army of undead. It was troubling on many levels that Voldemort knew the spell, even if was true he had saved him and Colin just now. 

“I’m the reason you’re not ashes right now.” Voldemort said, his voice disembodied in the dark. “He knows to be grateful. You should be too.” 

“I am grateful to you _and_ I’m going to arrest you.” Harry said. “Colin, you’re a witness. He used a water spell that’s known for Inferi creation.” Harry casted Lumos and was shocked as Voldemort flew past him.

Harry wanted to cast a spell to disarm him but paused, worried about hitting Colin, whom Voldemort went past as well. 

Voldemort was headed into the offices Colin and Harry had escaped from. 

“You should be more concerned with catching whomever’s behind the Fiendfyre.” Voldemort said. “I’m trying to do that so I’d rather not be arrested by you.” Though the floors had been destroyed by fire, Voldemort flew past the gaping holes, headed in the direction the Fiendfyre attack had originated from. 

“I want to catch them too.” Colin said resolutely, making known his intent of entering the remains of the office he had nearly died in. He stood but suddenly coughed and fell, clearly suffering from the side-effects of the Fiendfyre. 

“The thing you need to do right now is get to a hospital.” Harry said, deciding that getting Colin medical attention was of higher priority that chasing Voldemort. 

Colin muttered something about catching the bastards who had destroyed his publication’s headquarters but he nonetheless agreed to allowing Harry to escort him to St. Mungo’s. 

——

Harry brought Colin safely to St. Mungos. He had worried there could be another attack against Colin on the way there and that was why Harry had followed but another one did not manifest. 

Harry left Colin to the medical staff but declined their attention himself. He said he was fine. In truth, a headache was forming at the thought of the paperwork he would have to submit due to this matter, and his heart hurt at the damage down to The Magbob’s offices which could severely set back the organization. 

Like Colin, Harry wanted to catch the bastards responsible.

Harry decided to Apparate to the bagel place he recalled as being a block away from The Magbob’s now destroyed offices. After all, there was the old cliche about the how criminals returned to the scene of a crime. 

Harry traveled toward The Magbob, and as he neared, he found Voldemort dueling with a wizard who had to be the one who had attacked the offices for he was using Fiendfyre. But the wizard found himself struggling against Voldemort, who was using the water elemental counterpart Dark Art of the fire elemental Dark Art against it and winning. 

Soon the wizard found himself unable to even cast verbal spells for Voldemort managed to form a liquid bubble around the man’s head, and his eyes closed.

“Stupefy.” Harry said, stunning Voldemort and breaking his spell. 

The bubble dissipated and the arson suspect and attempted murderer collapsed onto the ground as Voldemort did. 

“You and I both know exactly what that water spell does.” Harry said sternly once he was standing over Voldemort’s prone form.

“I was only going to stop at getting him to pass out.” Voldemort complained. “That’s not the same as drowning him to death.” 

Harry reached out toward Voldemort’s mask. Until now, he’s never had so good a chance to unmask the vigilante. 

But Harry did not succeed. Voldemort casted a wandless counter spell and broke free of his paralysis in time to push Harry out of the path of a cutting spell, only to be struck by it himself. 

Harry was shocked by the blood on the ground that he could see by the moonlight. He react quickly, aiming at the assailant, another wizard. 

Voldemort had casted a spell that shattered the wizard’s shield, which left him vulnerable to Harry’s stunning spell, and the wizard collapsed near the one that was already passed out. 

“Voldemort?” Harry said, staring in wide-eyed shock at masked man who was swaying dangerously. “Let me help you.” Harry said, holding out his hand. He wasn’t even sure where he had been hit, though Harry knew Voldemort had sustained an injury somewhere, when he had shielded Harry. Twice now Voldemort had saved him tonight. 

“Help you unmask me?” Voldemort hissed. “I don’t think so.”

Harry could hear the soon to be arrival of several other Aurors. 

Voldemort ran, and without his usual grace, leapt down into a dark alley. 

Harry rushed to follow him, but a look into the passageway showed no one. 

Aurors entered the area, securing the two knock-out wizards on the ground. Harry gave a verbal report of what had happened, though he left out some details, such as the nature of the water spell Voldemort had used. He said he would be more detailed in his paper report though the truth was he would omit similar things. 

Harry kept the report brief for he wanted to leave the scene at once in order to find Voldemort. He had the faint thought that perhaps the vigilante was not too far away yet. Harry had to apologize to him. 

But once Harry saw that it was nine pm on the watch of a co-worker he realized he was late. It was three hours past the time he had agreed with Tom that they would meet for dinner.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was late, horribly late. 

The only positive thing he could think of was the fact that he had been to the restaurant before. It was in his memory and therefore was a place he could Apparate to. 

He Apparated the moment he found his concentration, which proved tough as he found it unstable. Apparating took determination and intent, and while Harry did not want to keep Tom waiting any longer, he was torn between leaving for the restaurant or pursuing an injured Voldemort, who needed medical attention. At worst, Harry thought Tom could be drunk, but Harry had seen Voldemort’s blood shine in the moonlight, and he kept thinking about the man’s wounds. 

Once he was at the restaurant, a waiter informed Harry that Tom had just left, shortly before Harry had arrived. 

Harry Apparated to the manor and found himself hoping that Tom had not gone directly home because then Harry could put off their confrontation. Harry knew he had alot to apologize for but he didn’t only owe Tom an apology. He owed Voldemort, who was currently wounded because of him. It was horrible that Harry had failed to show up to his dinner date with Tom but it wasn’t something Tom would die from, while Voldemort had been damaged for a spell meant for Harry. Time was of the essence and at the very least Harry thought he would give Voldemort the Dittany potion kept in the manor’s stores. He could apologize to Tom in the morning. 

Harry’s hope was dashed for when he arrived inside the manor, the first thing he saw was Tom, who was at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the banister but not yet making the journey up. 

“Tom?” Harry said warily as approached his spouse. In the dim light, he could not see Tom well. 

But even from several feet away, Harry could smell alcohol on Tom, who reeked of it. According to the waiter, Tom had left the restaurant only a short while before Harry had appeared there. For Tom to be already here meant he had likely Apparated. 

“Tom, please tell me you didn’t _drink and Apparate_.” Harry said, getting closer. 

Tom turned around slowly, hiding his back from Harry. 

“How was I suppose to get home?” Tom said, clutching the banister tightly. “Waiting for you to show up and transport me when I didn’t know if you’d ever show up?” 

Harry bit his lip in frustration. Tom had basically admitted that he done something that was against the law and more troubling to Harry - it was something dangerous, but he was trying to make him feel guilty…and it was working. But it didn’t mean Tom didn’t have other options. “You could have asked someone else to Apparate you.” Harry said. 

“I’m not going to allow some random person to Apparate me home.” Tom scowled, and leaned even closer against the tree as if he depended on it to stand. “What if they had taken me to someplace strange and - ”

“Then you should have asked an uniformed Auror.” Harry said. He though that a drunk Tom was a whole lot more talkative and sassy than a sober Tom. This had to be a record in the amount of words they had exchanged in a conversation. 

“An Auror? Which reminded me of my husband, who stood me up? Yes, of course I could have asked an Auror for help.” Tom said sarcastically. 

Again, Harry felt guilty in his bones. He moved closer to Tom, who in reaction tried to move further away. 

Tom took two steps and that was as far as he got before he suddenly fell.

Harry caught him, and the moment he put his hands on Tom, he found them covered in blood. 

“Tom!” Harry yelled in worry and outrage. “Oh my god! You _splinched_ yourself. Why did you just stand there arguing with me while you’re bleeding? Your license should be suspended for this.” Harry said, excessively speaking in his flustered panic. 

“See, now you’re talking about suspending my Apparation license.” Tom said. “That’s exactly why I didn’t mention it.” 

“For someone who reads as much books as you do, you’re an idiot!” Harry shouted again because he was upset. “Don’t try the stairs - my room’s closer. What the hell are you thinking?” He said, holding Tom and guiding him in that direction. 

“Hmm,” Tom said, “I thought I could just make it to my room, hide from you and then take some Dittany. I’d be mostly fine and I’d see you the next day, where I’d hold you standing me up over your head.” Tom said. “But now that you’ve found my like this you’ll never let me live it down.” He staggered suddenly but Harry stabilized him. 

“I bet it hurts.” Harry said, still concerned but also furious. “But it serves you right. Of course I don’t let you forget this! Apparating under the influenced of alcohol and splinching yourself? The only thing worse would have been if you Apparted someone else too.” 

“But I didn’t.” Tom said. “Are you still going to report me? If so, I’ll just help myself.” Tom pushed away Harry’s hand and stumbled a few steps before Harry seized him again. 

“The hell you are, idiot.” Harry said again, physically sweeping Tom off his feet and carrying him to the bedroom. 

“I can’t believe this. After months of marriage this is the first pet name I hear from you.” Tom said. 

“You earned it.” Harry said, again alarmed by the blood that covered his fingers. “Names will be changed to protect the guilty but I should tell this story to the Hogwarts sixth years when they are learning Apparation. Don’t go for a round of drinking at Hogsmeade and think you can Apparate back home because you'll end up like this idiot.” 

Harry deposited Tom on the bed, and asked him about his state. 

“I’d like a drink.” Tom said cheekily. 

Harry glared. 

“Of water.” 

Harry acknowledged the request and left for the kitchen. He poured a glass of water and looked in the cupboards for Essence of Dittany. It was useful for mending bloody wounds and could turn severe damage into light injuries.

The potion was rare and there was only one in the manor. Harry froze with his hand around the neck of the potion and grit his teeth in frustration. One potion, but there was two people he needed it for and he could not give it to both. 

Harry wanted to find Voldemort immediately in order to hand it to him and be sure the man’s wounds were not life-threatening but there was the matter of his drunk husband, who had done something extremely stupid. While Harry did feel guilty that Tom had gotten intoxicated because he had been hurt over Harry’s failure to show up to their dinner date, that guilt only went so far. In his mind, Tom had brought the injury he had suffered on himself for doing something as unbelievably stupid and ill-advised as Apparating while intoxicated and splinching himself in the process. Voldemort on the other hand, had gotten wounded protecting Harry. And while that was also foolish in a way, Voldemort had gotten hurt because of him and in this case, Harry felt more responsible. 

Harry was torn but he knew what choice he had to make. 

He grabbed the potion and the glass of water and returned to his bedroom. 

“Take your clothes off.” Harry said, offering Tom the glass of water. 

Tom gave him a very suggestive look over the glass of water, which he drank sloppily. More of it ended up on his shirt than in his mouth. “What do you want to do with me?” He asked. 

“I want to apply the potion for you.” Harry said, glancing at Tom's wet shirt and wondering if a doppelganger had replaced his husband. Tom was usually cold and aloof. This was something else. He took the empty glass and set it down on the night table. 

Harry considered that Tom was too pained - from splinching himself, and could not muster the energy to even strip. Harry decided to do it for him. “I’m going to take your clothes off.” Harry said, giving Tom a warning and a notice of his intention. 

“Okay.” Tom said. He cooperated as Harry removed his shirt and undershirt. Harry thought that sober Tom would not have allowed this but sober Tom wouldn’t have splinched himself in the first place, and end up needing Harry to tend to the resulting damage. 

Harry realized two things once he stripped Tom of his upper garments. One, he had never seen Tom with his clothes off until now. Two, the damage was worse than he had thought. The wound was on the left section of Tom’s body and existed on the front, side and back.

Harry could only relax once he had carefully applied the Dittany, which reduced the injury to faint lines which would fade to nothing with time. Tom must have been exhausted, for he fell asleep during the process. 

At that point Harry felt free to scold him. 

“You’re lucky. The worst you’ll suffer from in the morning is a hangover.” Harry murmured at Tom’s sleeping form. “But someone else is hurt and I helped you instead of him. I don’t know where he is or what his health is currently but I’m worried because it was my fault like splinching yourself is yours.” 

Harry worried about Voldemort but he also knew the wizard was strong and hard to kill. He would be offended if Harry thought him weak and these were the thoughts Harry tried to calm himself with so he could sleep. Yes, Voldemort had been injured but he had to be alive because such things did not take him down easily. 

Harry thought of going to sleep himself but he looked around and remembered that he was in his bedroom, where he was suppose to sleep, but his bed was occupied by Tom. 

Harry sighed. It’s a large bed, he thought, and he crawled in it, sleeping by Tom’s side. He was tired and it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. 

——

Tom had barely slept though he was exhausted. 

A corrosive jealousy kept him awake. 

Harry had thought he was asleep, but Tom had not been. His eyes were shut and he had heard Harry’s mutters. 

Tom was in Harry’s bedroom, and even on his bed, and Harry was by his side. They were in the same room physically, but mentally Harry had been in another world, thinking of another man - thinking of _Voldemort_. 

Voldemort and Tom Riddle were the same person but Harry did not know that so Tom could not comfort himself with the thought that concern for Voldemort was the same as concern for him. This was how Tom found himself jealous of himself. 

In his mind, he played his interactions with Harry while he was disguised as Voldemort, over and over again trying to figure out when and why Harry would care about him more than Tom. 

Tom wondered if he had been wrong to be so standoffish in his marriage with Harry. He had not wanted to bother Harry with his presence more than he had to because a curse was pushing them together. But he had felt Voldemort was separate, he could interact with Harry without guilt as Voldemort.

And as Tom he had also dissuade Harry from getting close and discovering his secret identity, but now he felt stabs of jealousy at the realization that Voldemort was probably closer to Harry that he was. 

Even more foolishly, he realized he had grown in his care for Harry because of his encounters with him while in his guise as Voldemort. 

In the dark of the bedroom, Tom listened to Harry breathe and watched him through the faint light of the night sky that filtered in through the windows. He realized that this was the first time that they had shared a bed. He also thought that Harry could be dreaming of his alter-ego. 

Tom decided that he did not want to meet with Harry as Voldemort any further because the thought sent him spiraling into envy, but he knew he should not avoid Harry, who felt guilty about Voldemort getting hurt while protecting him. Harry was worried and did not know of Voldemort’s status. 

Tom shut his eyes and thought of writing a letter in the morning. 

——

The next day, Harry found a letter among the flowers of the small garden he kept on the ground near his side of the manor. 

He opened it and read the message inside. 

He thought about it even when he showed up at the Auror Office. The two wizards captured last night were a Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle. Crabbe had been the one to cast the Fiendfrye, and they had said that they wanted to destroy a site of “mudblood propaganda creation”. 

Harry said to their faces that they failed because The Magbob would continue to exist even with the destruction of its headquarters. 

Harry did not tell them, but he also knew that the journalists at The Magbob kept copies of their documents in a Cloud so a great deal of their work and drafts was recoverable even if the paper notes were sadly lost. Colin simply had to summon it, and he had phoned Harry this morning to say that he had left St. Mungos. Additionally, he was already discussing with the Patils about temporarily having his staff work at the offices of their magazine, _Janus_. 

The Magbob would continue to exist and thrive, and relaxed by that thought, Harry prepared to travel to the place Voldemort had proposed they meet. 

——

“That was too easy.” Voldemort said to Harry once he appeared. “I give you a message with instructions for us to meet and you show up. No suspicions, no back up?” 

“Nope.” Harry said. It was strange meeting in the daytime. Voldemort looked less scary and mythological and more…silly. He was wearing a fully black outfit and the sun was shining on it and all the trees of the forest. It was unlike meeting in a dark hallway that had been previously lit by murderous magical fire that had been put out by murderous magical water. “Here.” Harry said, holding out the half-used bottle of Dittany. 

Voldemort took the offered bottle. “It’s the afternoon now. If there were any potions I needed to take to restore myself I would have already taken it last night. Do you think giving this to me now is any use?” Voldemort said. “I’d say this action of yours is to sooth your own ego more than anything else. How utterly pathetic and useless of you.” The last sentence was said so venomously it was surprise Harry did not go into shock from the poison. 

“You’re right.” Harry admitted instead. “I’m sorry for getting you hurt in the first place and I’m sorry now because it is selfish of me to expect your forgiveness or thanks. I won’t try to arrest you, but I want to know if you have recovered from your injury.”

“Yes I have.” Voldemort said. “It would take much more than a little spell like that to really hurt me.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.” Harry said. “And to see you now. I wanted to help you last night but something came up.”

Harry would have stopped there but Voldemort had tensed up with a aura of strange interest and Harry found himself elaborating further and venting about his husband, who he had thought was smart but was actually a huge fool. 

Harry paused in the middle of his rant because he had a sense that Voldemort was impatient. “I realized I forgot to ask.” Harry said. “But why did you set up this meeting with me?” Surely, it couldn’t have been just for Harry’s peace of mind that Voldemort was okay and survived his injuries form last night. 

“Colin Creevey discussed something with me he may have not discussed with you.” Voldemort said, elaborating. “Ask him about it.” 

Harry was troubled by the end of Voldemort’s explanation but he thanked him for the information. Harry left meeting wondering why he had the sense Voldemort was physically fine but mentally pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to flesh out the two more chapters I have left this week. wish me luck orz


	4. Chapter 4

Harry considered the information Voldemort had given him. Colin had brought the forth the idea of acting as bait in an attempt to resolve the mystery behind the recent cases where muggleborns lost control of their magics and randomly attacking anyone nearby. Voldemort was right in assuming that Harry would not have allowed Colin to do such a thing, and Colin had thought so as well, which is why he had put forth the proposal to Voldemort instead of Harry. 

For the Auror Office, there was a delicate balance of allowing the public to know the details of the situation and on the other hand not allowing their opponents to having an understanding of their plans and move steps ahead of them. There was a theory that the cases happened not because of something from within muggleborns that made them inherently susceptible, nor was it because there was some disease they could get like Dragon Pox, but because muggleborns were being targeted and cursed or enchanted into such a condition. Proof was needed. 

Suspecting this, Colin had wanted to be as close to the investigations as possible - by getting afflicted. It was risky and foolish; Voldemort would have agreed to allow Colin to put himself in danger - it was his idea after all, but now Voldemort had spilled the plan to Harry, expecting him to interfere or put an end to the consideration of such a course of action. 

“You do feel responsible for protecting him, beyond your general commitment to the public’s safety in your duties as an Auror..” Voldemort had said to Harry. “Just because of a graduation gift.” 

Harry had to listen as Voldemort laid out his insights on Harry’s connection to Colin’s publication. Voldemort said he knew that Harry had provided start-up funds for The Magbob. But so had other people, and other than that he had no connection to it. Not the day to day management, nor did he make any decisions on who got hired, what it wrote on and what got published. 

Harry had the sense Voldemort had tried to convince him not to feel guilty about the trouble Colin was attracting on the platform Harry had given him the means to build. 

Strangely, Harry did find his strain eased. It felt better to know what Colin was up to although the younger Gryffindor had hidden it from him. Still, the stress was present. 

Harry wondered how he could coordinate with Colin, figuring he could not change the course of Colin’s actions since he had reached out to Voldemort with the plan instead of Harry. He wondered too how his co-workers fit into this mess, along with Voldemort. 

Harry thought much and ate little. In the manor he was left uninterrupted for lengthy periods of time. That morning, as expected, Tom had woken up with a hangover, and complained about wanting to be left alone the moment Harry had apologized for failing to show up to their dinner date. According to him, the apology was accepted but Harry was too loud and he didn’t want to hear or see anything at the moment because his head hurt. 

Tom was rightfully embarrassed too, about the events of last night, where he had gotten very drunk and attempted an Apparation that had resulted in his body suffering from a splinching. Harry knew Tom was purposely avoiding him after such a feat and Harry let him do so and giving him more reason to because whenever Harry saw him he would remind him of what he had done. Harry had lectured him out of worry but Tom took it as well he did bright sunlight on his eyes that morning. Considering Tom’s avoidance it surprised Harry at dinnertime, where Tom had shown up behind him at a moment Harry had been lost in his thoughts. 

“There’s still alot on your plate, why aren’t you eating?” Tom said asked. 

“I don’t have an appetite.” Harry said. 

“Why?”

“Just stress from work.” Harry said, being vague but not technically lying. 

“You still have to eat.” Tom said, and he had followed this message by picking up a small piece of cut chicken with his fingers and directly putting it to Harry’s lips.

Surprised by the sight of sauce on Tom’s fingers, Harry did as he said. 

“You should be eating too, to heal faster from the accident.” Harry said after he had finished the piece.

Clearly annoyed by Harry’s statement, Tom had opened his mouth to speak and that was when Harry picked up a piece of leafy green and put it over his lips. Tom accepted it but grasped a bit of vegetable too, offering to to Harry. 

There were no words after the matter turned into one where they were aggressively picking morsels off of Harry’s plate and hand-feeding each other. 

Harry only left the rhythm of their odd game once he realized he was licking Tom’s index finger while Tom was making eye contact with him and letting him. 

Harry leaned back and closed his mouth. 

“You have some appetite after all.” Tom said. “That’s good.” 

Harry flushed and though about how they did not usually have their meals together, which he was now considering a acceptable status quo if this was what happened when they did eat together. He was unbalanced and found himself apologizing again for the night before. 

Tom shook his head. “I should be the one apologizing.” Tom said. “What I did was reckless and I’m sorry.” 

Harry was surprised by Tom’s words for he had expected the usual cold silence. But now Tom had found him and they were speaking. Following the momentum present, Harry brought up that he wanted another attempt at them having dinner at a restaurant together. 

Discussing the matter further, they agreed on a time and place on Tuesday. By the end Harry felt more relaxed, for all the chaos in his life, at least now his relationship with Tom looked like it could be repaired. 

—

Harry confronted Colin on Monday, which saw a hastily written article by Rita Skeeter on the arson suffered by The Magbob was somehow a ploy to sell more newspapers, or for insurance fraud reasons because it was not doing well financially. 

That day, one of the muggleborns that had undergone the mysterious affliction that caused him to lose control of his magic, had been cured by an antidote prepared by the specialized St. Mungo staff assigned to this purpose. 

The patient explained that the last thing he remembered before being lucid now in the hospital room was the smell of things he disliked - cold medicine, baked brussel sprouts and sawdust mixed with puke.

When Harry listened to his explanation, so had Colin, who Harry then caught listening while disguised as a supposed staff member of St. Mungos. 

Apparently, during his stay following the Fiendfyre attack, Colin had made sure to secure a uniform for himself. 

Harry sighed and moved Colin to an empty hospital room, where he brought up the matter of Colin’s plan. 

Colin didn’t deny anything and brought up what Harry had just caught him doing as a part of that. He would gather more information but he was determined to do what he wanted to. He simply needed backup. 

“But I’ll keep writing no matter what you know. I won’t be silenced, and if they come after me…that’s what I’m waiting for.” Colin said stubbornly. 

“I’m going to help you since I can’t stop you.” Harry said, because he had decided it was better to supervise Colin rather than forbid him only to see him get up to it by himself or only with the aid of a masked man who operated outside of the law. 

—

On Monday night, everything goes wrong.

Harry was compelled to check up on Crabbe and Goyle because after his official work hours that day because he was upset at how things were developing. It was possible that the two pureblood wizards would get off scott-free despite their successful arson and unsuccessful murder attempt. Colin was a witness but Skeeter’s made-up rubbish about his motives had somehow dug into minds as a legitimate view, making his words suspect. Though Harry backed up Colin’s words and had his own, which matched, there was still an ingrained prejudice against muggle-born magical folks. 

When Harry arrived at the cell, he found that there was not two people inside but one person - Voldemort. 

Harry wondered if he was dreaming. While he should have exercised caution, he instead hurried into the room for Voldemort was slumped on the ground and still. 

The body felt warm, solid and real, unlike the shadow the man usually seemed to be and that calmed Harry and concerned him for the situation was strange. Voldemort should never be still but moving and elusive. 

Harry regretted his impulsiveness a second later when the cell soundly shut behind him. 

“Auror Potter.” Said a grating voice Harry recognized. “What an unexpected bonus.” 

Harry turned around with his wand raised, recalling as he did so that wands did not work inside the cells like the one he was inside of. The body that he had his other hand on stirred. 

“Rita Skeeter.” Harry said, frowning at the woman he saw. He stood and lowered his wand but his pose remained aggressive. 

The hack writer smiled with a quill and parchment in her hand. “Will you please do the honor of unmasking Hangleton’s favorite masked crusader? He’s never let me interview him but such a story will surely sell better than any interview he’s given so far.”

“Did you seriously set this up just because you’re upset I wouldn’t let you interview me?” Voldemort said, standing up as well. 

“Yes, and you fell for the bait.” Skeeter said. 

“Bait?” Harry frowned, trying to comprehend the situation he had found himself in. 

“Yes.” Skeeter said. “Mr. Snakeman here is a vigilante. He loves acting as an avatar of justice outside of the pesky confines of the law. The law would see pureblood wizards go unpunished for burning down an uppity mudblood’s arrogant little newspaper. Which is why he’s here at night - he wanted to enact a penalty.”

“Voldemort.” Harry said, and exhaustion crept into his voice, for he suspected that Skeeter was right in this case. Voldemort had fallen into this trap because he had gone for the bait that Skeeter had set. Harry also found himself feeling guilty because it was wrong in that it spurned the law, but he had wished that there would be some deserved punishment for the two wizards who seemed like they could go free because of a biased system that supported them, and it had appeared, in the form of the shady and unaccountable Voldemort. And now they were both in trouble.

“Yes.” Voldemort said, admitting to the accusation in Harry’s voice. “I decided to sneak in here at night in order to _intimidate_ them a bit. The fire had singed my favorite black cloak.” 

Harry was again reminded of Voldemort’s traits, namely his questionable violence and vanity. 

“Are you going to cooperate, Mr. Auror?” Skeeter said. “Please do your job and arrest him. Unmask him first! I’ll spin the article in a way that makes you look heroic but you have to give me a good story and act.”

“Where are the two suspects that were in custody, Ms. Skeeter.” Harry said. “It’s a grave matter to release them like - ”

“I knew it. You’re on his side. What a mess.” Skeeter shook her head. “You’re on the mudblood’s side, I researched - I know you gave him the money to start his crummy rag, and - ” Skeeter gestured at Voldemort, “I know he’s on the mudblood’s side too because he granted an interview. Creevey’s the common connection.” 

“Ms. Skeeter.” Harry said coldly. “I am sensing that you are the directing mastermind behind the attack on The Magbob’s offices. Why?”

“Any publication that has an interview with Voldemort always gets sold out the next day.” Skeeter said. “That fame, that wealth - I wanted to try and I’ve asked, but you ignored me.” She glared at Voldemort.

“I only grant interviews to serious journalists.” Voldemort said.

“I’m not serious?” Skeeter said. “The first interview you gave was to a woman who wrote bloody sports articles.” 

“Ms. Weasley writes sincerely.” Voldemort said. “She has obvious care and respect for the material she’s covering - the sports, the players, the fans. Meanwhile, you don’t have respect for any of the people or groups you write about. She also does something you should try at least once - _fact-checking_.” 

“Fact-checking?” Skeeter said her volume rising. “Like the loony woman who writes about made up creatures? You fault me for making up things to sell papers but with her it’s a virtue?”

“I see, you admit to publishing falsehoods.” Voldemort said. “That shows growth. I still wouldn’t allow you to interview me though. As for Ms. Lovegood’s creatures, they are not so much false as they are elusive. I have seen a few of them myself. She has a knack for describing their appearance and mannerisms.”

While Harry had the sense that Voldemort meant every word of praise he was giving his past interviewers, he was also sure Voldemort was also saying things to anger Skeeter. 

“Please shut up.” Harry said, not sure if he was speaking to Voldemort, Skeeter or both of them. 

“And then you spoke to a _Divination_ magazine of all things!” Skeeter ignored Harry’s words and was yelling now. “It’s the rubbish runt out of all the magical subjects. Who the hell takes Divination seriously, when it’s looking into crystal balls and reading tea leaves and guessing?” Skeeter said. “That’s serious?”

“Divination is a tough and elusive, but rewarding subject if properly pursued.” Voldemort said. “Admittedly, I don’t have much patience for it but the Patils’ articles are dedicated to helping their readers with tips and best practices…rather than leading them astray with _trite bullshit_.”

It was like Voldemort was saying what Harry had wanted to say about Skeeter’s articles for the longest time, accept he was saying it to her face. Harry would have been pleased but the current circumstances were too worrying. 

“Okay.” Skeeter said, her attention was on Harry again. “You won’t unmask him? Then he can kill you. That would make a great story too.” 

Harry smelled the potion before he saw it. It had the horrible stench of guts, rot and ashes - and it doesn’t land on him but on Voldemort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost done (maybe 1 or 2 more chapters after this one).


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: self-harm (in a way)
> 
> I had a spot of trouble deciding how to tell events this chapter ono;

Rita Skeeter was having a good night. She was having a _great_ night. 

In a cell where wands were prevented from functioning, she had left Harry Potter, famed uniformed Auror, with Voldemort, famed masked vigilante. She had hit the latter with a potion that caused wizards to violently lose control of their magic, while the former had a knife that she had generously thrown in before she left them to their fight. She had noticed that Harry had antidotes too. She had destroyed those vials and seen their contents uselessly dissipate onto the ground. That was why she had given Potter a dagger as compensation, to make it a bit more fair. 

She did not stay to observe, for the winner was already obvious to her. It was herself, because no matter who won she would have a hot story on her hands. They could not leave the cell anyway. Confidently, she left to go somewhere quiet and draft up her article. It did not matter to Skeeter that she didn’t have the facts yet. She often worked without them. There was enough material that she could work with. 

Skeeter had seen Voldemort’s magic manifest as shadowy serpents that sought and twined around Harry Potter’s neck, which could be snapped like any other. The man was already inclined to violence and Skeeter was sure the influence of the potion would push him further. 

—

Skeeter returned the to cell twenty minutes later. 

She had expected one of the men to be still standing, but instead both bodies were on the ground of the cell, back to the floor, and still. 

Voldemort was masked and Skeeter could not see his face but there was no movement from him. Harry Potter was next to him, and Skeeter had the strange thought that it reminded her of a married couple lying next to each other on a master bed. Except it was a vigilante and an Auror, and the Auror eyes were closed while his clothes were covered in blood. There was blood too, on Voldemort’s white mask, and on the dagger by his body. 

Skeeter growled in frustration. The basic conceit of her drafts had all been upended. One of them had to triumph over the other for her article, not both simultaneously eliminating each other. Perhaps the dagger had been too kind. 

She marched into the cell, convinced of the two men’s ends because of the blood and the fact that the Auror’s wand was away from its owner. 

Skeeter was about to pick up the wand when she suddenly found herself hit not by magic but by a physical attack. The last thing she saw was a blur of black robes and the recollection that Voldemort was skilled at hand-to-hand combat. It happened though, that many people concentrated on his talent at magic, and forgot this fact.

—

Tom still had trouble believing that Harry’s plan had worked even though it already had worked. It was why they were out of the situation they had been in and why Skeeter, along with her accomplices were in the Ministry’s custody. Properly this time. 

Perhaps the only thing worse than the ordeal itself was having to explain it to Harry’s co-workers so evidence and further investigation could be had, and seeing Harry having to go through it. 

Voldemort stayed to back up Harry’s account and give insight with his own with the hope that if he answered the questions there would not be a need for Harry to field them in his weakened state. Harry still needed rest, though he had drank a blood replenishing potion from the first aid kits kept in the Auror offices. 

Voldemort speaking with other Aurors was only possible because of a temporary agreement he managed to broker with them, regarding his cooperation in exchange for a freeze that night on their pursuit of him. Mad-Eye Moody had agreed and the other Aurors fell along the same line. 

“I drank his blood.” Voldemort said for at least the third time. He still had the distracting taste in his mouth. The potion Skeeter threw at him had caused his magic to go wild, crashing out and manifesting as shadowy serpents. He had felt a strong urge to attack, to strangle Harry like the bloodlust potion affecting him wanted him to. He had watched as Harry had wielded the knife Skeeter left behind, using it to slash at bonds that would not release. Voldemort had exercised his will, struggling against the magic’s desire to tighten, but he could not get it to release Harry. 

Then, Voldemort had watched as Harry had turned the knife on himself. He had cut his arm, before offering it firmly and insistently to Voldemort even as he was being hurt in the grasp of the masked man’s magic. 

Voldemort had accepted the offering, which had been more like a command. He had placed his lips on Harry’s cut and drunk, feeling himself grow more clearheaded when he had tasted Harry’s blood.

He had kept going until he felt that he had regained full control of his senses and the more he drank the more the snakes had loosened their deadly, choking grasp. While Voldemort had moved his mask aside in order to drink, he had noticed Harry politely looking away, even though the tilt of his neck was curious. 

Once Harry could speak again, he had explained that he had previously drank an counterserum for the potion although Rita had destroyed all the vials. His hope had been its presence in his bloodstream would be enough to break Voldemort out of the potion’s influence. It had worked but Voldemort had to drink a significant amount of blood for the full effect because of the antidote’s dilution. 

This was the reason why Harry’s health was unstable though his blood had been partially replenished with the aid of a restorative potion. More than anything what he needed now was rest and he could not have it while still having to offer a report. 

Wanting the meeting to end quickly, Voldemort was cooperative, cooperative to the point that the Aurors may have been suspicious, but it does end. 

—

Voldemort had left out certain details from the Aurors and Harry had omitted the same.

“I need to ask you something.” Harry said to Voldemort once they were alone. 

“You wanted me to kill you. Why?” Harry asked. He knew he had not been imagining it. Before he had thought of offering his blood, Voldemort had offered himself first, pressing his body so close to the knife Harry held that it would have been easy for the Auror to fatally wound him and dissipate the magic that way . 

“Because if you didn’t, I would have killed you.” Voldemort answered. 

“Why - ” Harry said again, cutting off suddenly with a harsh cough. He was still suffering from the effects of the blood loss, and found himself overcome by a wave of dizziness and his own confusion. Why would Voldemort have given up his own life in the situation to avoid taking Harry’s? He was a criminal, a wanted man, who surely held his self-preservation over that of an Auror? 

Instead of falling, Harry found himself caught by Voldemort, who held him up when his body swayed. 

“No more questions. I’ve had enough of that.” Voldemort said. “Go rest.” 

Harry couldn’t protest. He was very tired and his eyes closed when he found himself wrapped by Voldemort’s cloak. 

—

When Harry woke up on Tuesday, it was already dark, and he found himself in his bedroom in the manor. 

Harry groaned. The sleep, as long as it probably was, had left him feeling better than he had last night, but it was still unpleasant due to his hunger. He had not eaten anything for a far longer period than was healthy.

He thought of food then he thought of dinner, and remembered why Tuesday night was important. He had promised Tom another attempt at having dinner together tonight at six pm. Harry panicked, looking at the dark sky outside. What time was it?

He looked at his arm and instead of seeing a watch, he saw the faint cut from which he had fed Voldemort his blood. It had not healed fully yet. Harry looked at his desk and found a silver watch. It was 5:45 pm.

Harry panicked. He had to change immediately for he did not want to be even a minute late. 

He in his briefs and was having trouble coordinating, and struggling with putting both his legs into a pair of formal pants due to his hunger and unwell state, when Tom entered his room without knocking. 

Harry supposed the sound his side banging the desk may have been a cause for worry. 

“Tom!” Harry said, managing to pull up and fully close his pants. “I won’t be late - I only need a few minutes to change.” He stood up so he could give the appearance of being fine but froze suddenly as he realized that he could not fully take off his long sleeved shirt because Tom might see the cut on his arm and worry, or worse, ask questions.

His mental panic effected him physically and he experienced a wave of dizziness from hunger and the blood loss he had not yet fully recovered from. 

Harry nearly fell but he leaned on the nearest thing - or rather person. Pretending he had not nearly fainted, Harry wrapped his arms around Tom so that the arm that had been injured was at his back and Tom would not see. 

“Harry?” Tom said and it was as much an expression of worry as it was a demand for a explanation of his behavior. 

Harry hoped Tom would not question him. This was not the first time he had woke at an odd hour or gone to sleep at odd times because of his job. 

“I just wanted to embrace you.” Harry said, resting his chin on Tom’s shoulder. He looked at Tom’s outfit and wondered why Tom was not in formal wear. Weren’t they suppose to be at a restaurant soon? It might even be six already. 

“Don’t mind the dinner plans. I’ve canceled it.” Tom said. 

Harry pulled back and looked at Tom. He could not stop disappointment and confusion from appearing on his expression. Tom wanted to cancel their date? But this time Harry was determined to make it, while in their previous attempt at having dinner together, he had been abysmally late. This was his chance to make it up to Tom, but he was backing out of the plan at the last minute?

“What?” Harry said. “You canceled? But - ” Standing was troublesome at the moment but Harry had reasoned that it would be easier for him to pretend to be okay once he was in the restaurant and seated on a chair. All he had to do was change clothes…

“We’re not going.” Tom said, returning Harry’s embrace with the slightest pressure, as if afraid to break him. “I’ve made dinner for the two of us already. You can eat that because you need food now. You’re practically leaning on me. Stay in bed.” 

Harry found himself being pushed back into bed by Tom. The action was gentle but Harry felt an urgent order in the action. Harry shivered, though Tom was placing a blanket over him. Harry was more relaxed, now that his arm was concealed, yet at the same time he was less so because of how Tom was standing over him in bed, his blood was flowing to certain places rather strongly, though the current amount in his body was less than optimal. 

Harry could only began regaining some calm when Tom left the room. He fixed his shirt, wearing it again properly. 

—

“Have I told you that I love you?” Harry said, sitting up and leaning forward expectantly when Tom returned a few minutes later with a tray of fragrant soup in his hands. 

Tom stopped by Harry’s bedside, setting the tray on the desk by the bed, and looking strangely stiff as he did so. 

“No, this is my first time hearing that.” Tom said. 

“Oh, er…” Harry paused, blaming his behavior on the blood loss he had not yet fully recovered from, and his current hunger. He realized he would have never had the chance to say those words if he had perished yesterday. 

“I feel the same way.” Tom said. 

Harry would have wondered if he was imagining it if Tom hadn’t looked at him too, his dark eyes saying the same thing. 

Harry’s mouth was hanging open a little and Tom took his chance to spoon-feed him a bit of soup. 

Harry raised his eyebrows and flushed. “I’m may not be in the best state at the moment but I don’t need you to spoon-feed me, Tom.”

“Too bad. I insist.” Tom said, raising another spoonful. Harry could see bits of the ingredients and he recognized some as being specifically meant to treat blood loss. The gears in his mind turned but he was famished. He wondered how long it had taken Tom to brew. 

Harry was about to reach out to grab the spoon himself but he remembered the cut on his arm. 

Recalling that, he retracted his hand and sat upright, hiding the arm under the covers again. 

He gave in and allowed Tom to feed him the soup, spoonful by spoonful, drinking it in when Tom guided each to his lips. Before Tom would even bring soup near Harry’s lips, for each spoonful he would take the time to blow on and cool down the hot liquid.

Harry felt warm and cared for. Tom’s tenderness was a side of him that Harry was enjoying the experience of. Along with these feelings came the guilt of how rough his bedside manner had been when Tom had splinched himself. He knew he could have been nicer but at the time he had been upset by how foolish and avoidable Tom’s injury had been, and frustrated that because he had to take care of such a matter, he could not help Voldemort.

“I’m sorry about how I was toward you the night you got injured coming home by yourself after the dinner that I didn’t show up to.” Harry said. 

“There’s no need for you to apologize.” Tom said. “I should be the one to say I’m sorry. It really was stupid of me.” He dipped the spoon in the soup again, and carefully raised another spoonful. 

Again, Harry really didn’t know what to say. Tom was being unexpected again. It seemed like alot of work, for Tom to have made the soup when he could be reading in his room or something, instead of personally cooling the soup himself. 

“You’re thinking out loud.” Tom said, alerting Harry to the fact he had indeed done so. “You really are tried.” Tom murmured, explained that using a spell to cool down the rejuvenating soup would have diminished its potency.

Harry wanted to ask if Tom had eaten anything because it seemed like out of the two of them, only he had, but he had felt full, warm and sleepy after finishing the bowl and soon found himself falling asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which it is time to crank up the misunderstandings and Jealous!Tom levels, and I attempted to go for dark but it steered crack.

Tom had thought that Harry would make a point to avoid Voldemort since the wizard had nearly killed him but instead, once Harry’s workload had calmed down, Tom found himself again, as Voldemort, pulled in a private meeting with Harry. 

“Voldemort!” Harry said, when Voldemort landed on the rooftop.

Tom froze. It touched him strangely to hear Harry say Voldemort’s name in the tone of voice he had. It was cautious but hopeful and tender, and again the familiar terrible jealousy Tom always felt when Harry paid attention to Voldemort bubbled to the surface. He had barely gotten over the fact that Voldemort had experienced something as intimate as partaking in so much of Harry's blood. 

“I’d like to ask you about something.” Harry said. 

“Like an interview?” Voldemort asked. “Go ahead.”

Harry grinned at the private joke about the ordeal they had gone through together though it had been terrible. 

Under his mask, Tom smiled too. It doesn’t last long. Harry’s next words destroyed any amusement. 

“Have you thought about finding someone with similar goals? Someone to share your burdens with?” Harry asked. “Someone who understands - ”

“Such as yourself?” Tom said in a cold voice. The charm on his mask only rendered it colder as it came out in a high voice. It sounded like Harry wanted to be together - with Voldemort. 

Harry nodded, unfazed by the chill of Voldemort’s tone. “We can be together.” 

“Mine is a world of darkness and solitude.” Voldemort said, shifting his pose so that his cloak fluttered dramatically in the night. “Friendship and love are alien to me. The night is my only ally.” He spoke to say anything at all or would have said furious things. Harry wanted to be together with him, Voldemort, while being married to Tom Riddle? 

Harry shook his head. “They don’t have to be alien to you.” Harry said, holding Voldemort’s gloved hands. “Aren’t I your friend? Friendship and love don’t have to be unknown to you.”

Under his mask, Tom grit his teeth, trying not to have an outburst at the implication Harry would show Voldemort _love_ , which was something that should be reserved solely for his husband - Tom Riddle.

“You have no idea what it entails or what I am into.” Voldemort snarled, slapping away Harry’s hand and hoping that the Auror would cease offering to be his lover. 

“I think I have a good idea of what it entails and you are into questionable magic but we can work on that.” Harry said. “So please let me be by your side.”

Voldemort used his magic, except this time by his own control and intent. Shadows in the form of dark serpents slithered around Harry, binding him. There was none around his neck but plenty binding his arms to his back and making him kneel. A snake pulled off his glasses, not damaging it all but still removing it from Harry’s use while another serpent wrapped around his head, covering his eyes and blocking his sight. 

Tom stood over him, his vicious feelings only mounting because of how calm Harry looked and how he didn't at all seem to mind being displayed for Voldemort. 

“Is this a test? Do I try to get out of this and if I pass do I get to be your teammate?” Harry said. 

“My what?” Voldemort said. 

“I’m not being a sidekick,” Harry said. “I’d like to join you in your crime-fighting activities but we have to be equals.” When Voldemort had spoken, Harry had tilted his head toward the sound of the voice, and Tom could see his beautiful, exposed throat in the moonlight. 

“So you were offering to be my teammate…” Voldemort said.

“…what did you think I was offering?” Harry asked. 

“To be my lover.”

“What?!” Harry yelled. “Why did you think I would want to be your lover?” Harry’s voice rose as his outrage mounted. “I’m a married man!” 

“You said you wanted to be by my side, to be together with me.”

“As an ally!” Harry said, visibly discomforted by the bonds now. 

“You said you would show me love and friendship.” Voldemort said, stressing the former. 

“Platonic love.” 

“And you have a different love for your husband?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting way you show it, offering to spend your nights with me instead of him.”

Tom could see Harry’s face redden from anger and embarrassment at Voldemort’s description of his offer. 

“Why shouldn’t you be with me?” Voldemort asked. Tom could sense Harry’s dislike and distrust of Voldemort and he wanted to increase it. “You owe me your life. I was the one who saved you from Fiendfyre - the reason why you can even return to your dear husband. Your every breath, your every heartbeat is because of me. You are mine.”

“I am not.” Harry said, and Tom could melt from how angry he sounded. 

“Please let me be by your side.” Voldemort said, repeating Harry’s words mockingly. “I have a good idea of what it entails.” He knelt, so they were face to face, and leaned in so that he was by Harry’s ear. “Do you really, Harry?” Voldemort said a short but vivid description into Harry’s ear.

Harry’s reaction was swift and Voldemort was caught off-guard as the Auror viciously head-butted him. 

Voldemort’s mask merely cracked but Harry fell backward, and Tom cried out in dismay, dismissing the bonds.

“Harry!” Voldemort said, his voice filled with panic as he curled his arm around Harry’s body to keep his head off the ground. 

Voldemort began to check Harry’s vitals.

Tom’s husband surprised him as his eyes suddenly opened. Harry reached for Voldemort’s mask and Tom could not get away in time for Harry was too close and too fast. 

“Tom?” Harry said in utter disbelief as he looked at the face before him. His hand swiftly grasped for his nearby glasses and upon finding and wearing them, the cracked mask in his hand clattered uselessly to the floor. The disbelief morphed to anger. “All those stupid, perverted words - it was you. Why are you impersonating Voldemort and trying to make him look bad? He was already bad but not like this - ”

“Impersonating?” Tom hissed, interrupting. Tom waved his wand with an effortless grace, manifesting a curtain of velvet, dark water. 

Harry stared. “Tom Marvolo Riddle.” Harry said. “Explain yourself.”

Tom did, once he had Apparated them both back to the manor and accessed his secret base through the manor’s grandfather clock. 

He answered while Harry looked around the large cave and at the lake inside it. 

“…so you were jealous of Voldemort, because I was worried for Voldemort. Even though you’re the same person.” Harry said after he had listened. 

“But you didn’t know that.” Tom said.

“Alot of things make more sense now.” Harry said. “Like you tying me up.”

“I wanted you to hate Voldemort.” Tom said. He was still in costume, sans the mask, which Harry held. 

“You told me some interesting things.” Harry said. 

It was Tom’s turn to blush, and he currently had no mask to hide behind. 

“It’d let you do it to me.” Harry said, looking into Tom’s eyes. “You, Tom Riddle.” 

Harry tossed the broken mask into the water. 

Tom did not retrieve it. He had other things to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't write smut so imagine it lol


End file.
